Guilt's Companion
by DreamNZ
Summary: Sometimes you just can't help but feel guilty, even when something really isn't your fault.
1. Chapter One

Tim was hot. Hot and tired and sweaty and sunburned and… hot. And wondering where the heck Tony was.

Gibbs had sent the two of them out to canvass the neighborhood where a Marine had been found dead along with his mistress. (Tony suspected that the wife did it.)

The two of them had started out at opposite ends of the 25 house neighborhood, with the plan to meet in the middle. It would be quick and painless and they would be back at headquarters in no time.

Things didn't quite work out that way.

Tim was just leaving house number 24, and next up was the home where Tony was supposed to have started with his half of the neighborhood. A small part of Tim was concerned about his co-worker, but most of him just wanted a large glass of ice water.

It was probably 95 degrees out on a nearly-cloudless day with high humidity. It seemed that at every house either the residents weren't home, or they were working out in their yard. In their yard with their jugs of iced tea or ice water or cold beer that no one ever offered to share. Except the guy with the beer, but Tim knew better than that.

By the time he stood before house number 25 he was regretting not accepting the glass of water from the nice woman in the seventh house he went to - who had blessedly been inside her air conditioned home. But at the time he thought he was nearing the end of the day, for surely he and Tony would soon cross paths - which of course, never happened.

So it really came as no surprise when Tony opened the door to the 25th house.

"Probie! That was quick."

Tim only glared, before noticing the class of iced tea in Tony's hands. Then he stared longingly at the glass that immediately began sweating upon introduction to the warmer air outside.

"Well, thank you very much for the information, Nancy," Tony said over his shoulder to the - of course - beautiful woman. "Oh, and thank you for the iced tea!"

As Tony handed the almost full glass back to the woman Tim had to resist the urge to push Tony aside and pounce on the glass. As it was Tony had to pull Tim away from the door and push him towards the car. He quickly overtook Tim, who had to force himself to hurry up. He wouldn't put it past Tony to leave him behind, not the way he had been acting lately.

As soon as the car was started Tim reached over and started blasting the A/C, and then started searching for something - anything - to drink. All he found was a half-full water bottle that was nearly boiling hot from sitting in the sun. He didn't care. He downed it in two gulps and then sat back, enjoying the cool air. Until it shut off.

"Drains the gas, Probie," Tony said in response to the glare Tim sent his way.

Tim resolutely reached over and turned the dial once more.

"Turn it off and I will kill you," Tim said through panting gasps.

"What's your problem?" Tony asked, genuinely surprised at the vitriol coming from Tim.

"Where where you?" Was Tim's reply.

"Talking to Nancy Kreiner. She saw something last night but she was afraid to say what."

"What was it?"

"She saw the wife driving away about 8:30 last night. Clancy had about 8 p.m. as the TOD."

Tony was speaking of the temporary medical examiner that had been at the crime scene. Ducky was still enjoying his two week vacation to Scotland, although he was due back in three days.

"Did you get anything?"

Tim waved a hand, too tired to talk at great length at the moment.

"No, seriously. I need to know before we get back."

"Then maybe you should've been out canvassing too," Tim said, his voice finally steadier, but there was still a breathy tone to it.

"I was. I can't help it if it took awhile to get Nancy to talk."

"It took the whole time?"

Tony hemmed and hawed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Tim finally said, derision in his voice.

"Hey, what's your problem?" Tony repeated.

Tim couldn't believe that Tony didn't get it.

"You left me to deal with 24 other houses!"

"So?"

Tim's sigh turned into a coughing fit, but he quickly got himself under control.

"What did I do?"

Tony was surprised at the out-of-left-field question.

"Huh?"

"You've been a huge jerk to me lately. Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"You keep messing up my lunch orders."

"So?"

"Three days in a row?"

Tony just shrugged.

Tim sighed.

"Okay, how about the bug spray?"

"What bug spray?"

"The case in the middle of the woods in Virginia? You used the last of the bug repellent."

"You still on that? I told you - the can was almost empty."

Tim glared at the side of Tony's head.

"You used so much I bet that clearing has yet to see another mosquito!"

"I hate mosquitoes," was his only reply.

"And you think I don't?"

Tony just smirked, remembering Tim sitting at his desk the next day, miserably trying not to scratch at the mosquito bites that riddled his body.

"What about taking credit for solving the Baxter case?"

"That was teamwork, not stealing credit!"

Tim didn't have an answer that didn't involve a multitude of swear words, so instead he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to calm down his racing heart.

Five minutes later - while at a stoplight - Tony looked over to find his partner asleep. He was a bit shocked to see a sheen of sweat still coating his reddened skin despite the chill that now permeated the car. He quickly rolled down his sleeves and turned the A/C on full blast, before accelerating away from the stoplight.

He did feel a bit guilty about leaving all the canvassing to Tim, but Nancy had been reticent to reveal her tale. It had taken some heavy flirting and flattering to get her to talk. And then, yes, even after he knew the tale he had stayed. After all, Nancy was hot, and … it had been awhile. He didn't realize that Tim would be doing most of his talking out of doors - for he had noticed how many people were working in their yards as he drove by them.

He had no guilt about Tim's lunches - he had messed the orders up on purpose. The man needed to eat more than salads, and he had thought that wraps were a good compromise. Despite Tim's anger, he had seemed to enjoy them.

As far as everything else went - yeah, okay, that was him picking on his Probie.

Tony was startled from his thoughts by a light coughing coming from the seat next to him. He glanced over to see that Tim had curled up into himself and was shivering. He turned down the A/C to it's lowest setting and decided that he was going to bring Tim directly to Jimmy when they got back to headquarters and see what the autopsy gremlin had to say.


	2. Chapter Two

Tim was still asleep when Tony pulled into the parking lot. He almost hated to wake the man because his breathing had finally evened out and he was no longer shivering nor sweating. But Tony knew that Gibbs was expecting them - and to delay going in meant to invite an undesirable ire, so he reached over and shook Tim's shoulder.

"Wakey, wakey McSleepy. We're home!"

Tim woke up in increments. First the moment where he almost fell back asleep. Then the moment when he was truly unsure if he was asleep or awake. When he looked over at Tony he was still in the stage where he knew he was awake, but he wasn't quite sure why Tony was in his bed.

That thought alone was enough to bring him straight to the fully awake stage, and looking around he recognized the company car parking lot behind the building.

"You let me sleep the whole way back?" he asked, trying to bite back a yawn. He failed spectacularly.

"Yeah, well, obviously you needed it. How're you feeling?""Fine, why?"

Tony shrugged and got out of the car and went right to the trunk. He was reaching inside to grab his and Tim's bags when Tim got out of the car, so he missed the moment when Tim had to clutch the doorframe just to stay upright. By the time Tony slammed the trunk shut Tim managed to appear to be casually leaning against the door rather than hanging on for dear life.

"Come on, let's get inside."

Tim reached out to grab his bag, but Tony ignored him and kept on walking. Tim shrugged and slammed his door shut before starting after Tony.

The chill of the building was a great relief to both of them for they had already begun sweating from being outside for merely a couple of minutes.

"Crap!" Tim said out of the blue just as he was about to enter the elevator.

"What?"

"I forgot my notebook in the car." Tim sighed before turning around to head back to the car. He was stopped by a hand around his wrist.

"Your notebook is in your hand, McGee," Tony said slowly, raising Tim's arm for him to show the notebook in question clutched in his hand.

Tim stared at it with surprise.

"Oh. Okay." He turned back around and entered the elevator, which was by then dinging in annoyance at sitting there with its door open.

"I think you need to go down and see Crane. Or if he isn't there have Jimmy take a look at you," Tony said as the elevator rose towards the bullpen.

"I'm fine. I just need something to drink and then I'll be okay," Tim insisted as he leaned against the elevator wall.

Tony turned to look at him.

"I don't think you're doing so well there Probie. You've got heatstroke or something."

"I'm still sweating," Tim said, wiping off his forehead to prove it. "If I'm sweating it isn't heatstroke."

"Well fine, then you have … whatever's not as bad as heatstroke. Do you even realize that you're sitting on the ground?"

Tim looked around and saw that he indeed had slid down until he was on the floor. He looked up at Tony, confused.

"When did I do that?"

The elevator dinged just then, opening at the bullpen. Tony offered his hand to Tim, who took it after hesitating for a few moments.

"Come on," Tony said, wrapping Tim's arm around his shoulder and wrapping his own arm around his waist. "Let's get to your desk and I'll call Palmer to get up here and have a look at you."

They rounded the corner to their area of the bullpen. Ziva looked up from her computer.

"What happened?"

Neither said anything until Tony had Tim settled in his chair.

"McGee had some bad luck in that all the people he interviewed were outside. It's really hot out there and he got a bit overheated."

"I notice you're not," Gibbs said, suspicion in his voice as he compared his senior agent to his rumpled, red-faced, sweating junior agent.

"He had better luck than me," Tim interjected. Gibbs stared at him for a moment before seeming to accept the answer.

Tim looked up at Tony. The look he gave was one known to all who have siblings. It clearly said: I'm covering for you now, but you owe me big time. It had taken Tony awhile to understood what that look meant, but now it was one he was quite familiar with.

Tony shot a grateful look to Tim before grabbing Tim's phone.

"Hey, Ziva, grab Probie a cold drink of water," Tony said over his shoulder before calling autopsy.

Ziva glared at the back of Tony's head before taking another look at Tim. Then she jumped up and hurried to do as he asked - or, rather, bid.

Meanwhile Tony was calling up Jimmy.

"Autopsy," the familiar voice answered.

"Hey Palmer. Probie spent a little too much time in the sun today and seems to have heatstroke -

"_Not_ heatstroke, Tony," Tim interjected.

"- so could you come take a look at him?"

"Sure, I'll be right up!"

"Palmer's coming up to take a look at you, Probie."

Tim sent a look to Tony that said he wasn't too happy to hear that. Then the look turned to joy as Ziva appeared next to Tony, water bottle in hand."Here you are, McGee."

Tim eagerly opened the bottle and started chugging, only to have the bottle taken from his hands after two gulps. His responding glare quickly tempered when he saw that Gibbs was the one who had done the snatching.

"You can't drink that fast if you're dehydrated. Slower," Gibbs explained, before handing the bottle back. Tim nodded and took one more gulp before regretfully twisting the cap back on.

"Good. Now someone want to tell me what you learned?"

Tony jumped up and began telling Gibbs about what he had learned from Nancy Kreiner. While in the middle of his drawn out explanation Jimmy arrived and snuck by Gibbs, Ziva and Tony to kneel by Tim's chair. Tim had started out trying to pay attention to what Tony was saying, but he ended up leaning back in his chair, fighting once again to stay awake, so Jimmy had to shake his shoulder to get his attention.

"Oh, hey Jimmy," Tim said, smiling sleepily at the man.

"Hey McGee. Tony said that you have heatstroke?" Tim didn't even get his mouth open before Jimmy continued on. "But it looks more like heat exhaustion to me, which still isn't good. You should've had something on you to drink," he chided.

"Didn't expect to be outside," Tim explained.

"Hmm," was Jimmy's very Ducky-like ambiguous response.

When he would think back to it later, Jimmy would never really be sure why he heard the hitch in Tim's breath over the general noise of the bullpen and the louder noise of the agents behind him. It was such a miniscule thing, but Jimmy's gut told him to investigate it further. Anyone who ever spent time with Gibbs quickly learned that following one's gut was always the best thing to do.

Jimmy opened his bag - an old fashioned medical bag that had been a gift from Ducky - and fished out his stethoscope.

"Do you mind if I take a listen to your lungs?"

Tim lazily shrugged one shoulder, so Jimmy had Tim lean forward a bit and lifted the back of his shirt so he could get the stethoscope up high enough.

"Okay, breathe in. And out. … Deep breath in. Hold it… and out."

Jimmy thought he heard something odd, but it was hard to tell with the din of noise going on behind him. So, he did something that he never thought he would do in his lifetime.

"Hey, be quiet."

The three agents turned to Jimmy. Tony's mouth was actually hanging open in surprise, Ziva was looking mildly impressed, and Gibbs turned his glare on full force. Jimmy winced but, turned back to Tim.

"Okay, let's try that again. Breathe in. And out. Good. Now take a deep breath in. Hold it. Hold it. Now let it out slowly, until you've got as much out as you can."

Tim obeyed every instruction, and on the last one the rush of air out of his lungs caused a coughing fit. Jimmy held him steady and handing him the bottle of water once the fit was over.

"How have you been feeling lately, McGee?"

Tim turned scornful eyes his way.

"Not right now! We all know how you're feeling right now. You look awful right now…" he trailed off, realizing he was rambling, and not to his advantage. So he took a soothing breath and tried again. "No, how have you been feeling these past couple of days?"

Tim really had to think about it.

"Like I'm coming down with a cold, I guess."

"What exactly do you mean?"

"Uh, well, I've been a bit achy and tired lately. Occasionally I get a bad headache. That's all."

Jimmy chewed on his bottom lip contemplatively as he wrapped his stethoscope and returned it to his bag. Finally he came to a decision.

"If Ducky was here he would know exactly what's wrong, but since he's not I'm going to have to insist that you go to the hospital."

That made Tim sit up.

"I'm just a little overheated! That's not worth going to the hospital for!"

"It's not the heat exhaustion I'm worried about. It sounds like you might have something in your lungs, I'm just not sure what. I don't want you to wait until Ducky gets back."

Tim was about to protest once again when Gibbs stopped any arguments from him.

"Hey, if Palmer says you need to go to the hospital, than you're going. Ziver - you drive him."

Jimmy looked pleased with the vote of confidence from Gibbs, while Tim looked a little green around the edges from the thought of being Ziva's passenger. He knew better than to argue though, and instead trudged after Ziva like a man on his way to the gallows.

* * *

_I forgot to mention before - this was written for the Guilt Challenge on NFA. However, this ended up being more like guilt-lite. _


	3. Chapter Three

Tim wasn't enthused about being forced to go to the hospital, nor was he particularly looking forward to being driven there by Ziva. He would admit - to himself - that he wasn't feeling well, but he certainly wasn't feeling bad enough for a trip to the hospital.

Although - he thought to himself with a smirk - after Ziva's driving gave him a heart attack, he would be in the perfect location.

When they finally reached the car - back out in the boiling heat with Tim dripping sweat in two seconds flat and Ziva managing to still look cool and comfortable - Tim reached for the door handle, just as he always would. But his hand refused to grasp the metal. He stared at his unobliging hand, forehead wrinkled with confusion. He tried once again to grasp the handle but found he just couldn't find the strength to do it.

"You okay, McGee?" Ziva asked over the hood of the car.

"Uh, yeah. The handle's just really hot," Tim said, thankful for his quick thinking. He tried the handle with his right hand and found he had no problems. Once in the car it took some maneuvering to buckle his seatbelt one handed, but he managed to do it without drawing attention to himself. Ziva didn't seem to be paying him any mind anyways, for she was already racing out of the parking lot, heading for the exit.

Ziva waited until they were out of the Naval Yard before turning to ask Tim if he'd like the A/C on, but she found him already asleep. She could see sweat beading on his forehead though, so she went ahead and turned the A/C on full blast - and then urged the car ever faster with a press of her foot.

NCISNCISNCISNCIS

Intake at the hospital took about 45 minutes. Ziva wanted to complain, but Tim wouldn't let her, pointing out that the group of green-tinged children should go first, as well the guy with a hole in his hand and the woman with a knife sticking out of her shoulder. (According to the screams they were - freshly - ex boyfriend and girlfriend. Luckily the two cops were keeping them under control.)

Tim used the time to fill out the insurance forms and emergency contact forms, which took awhile with a hand that worked one moment and then was all but dead the next. He also had a bottle of water, which Ziva kept filled for him via a nearby drinking fountain.

But finally his time came and a nurse brought him back to see the harried doctor who had just finished seeing his last food-poisoned child. Ziva was told to stay in the waiting room, which she did, with barely contained annoyance.

"Mr. McGee, this is Dr. Cal Jahvid. Doctor, this is Timothy McGee. He's here with signs of heat exhaustion," the nurse said after making sure Tim was settled on the cot.

Cal shared a roll of the eyes with the nurse - tired of people coming to the emergency room with things that could be taken care of at home - and then schooled his features before turning to Tim.

"All right Mr. McGee, so you have heat exhaustion?" the doctor asked with forced cheerfulness, but not unkindly.

Tim shrugged.

"Well, that's the reason you have written down on the form," Cal prompted.

"I was forced to come."

"Oh," Cal said, nodding understandingly. He saw that often - overprotective girlfriends and wives who were sure their significant other was about to die.

Tim sighed and decided to fess up.

"One of my co-workers heard something in my lungs and told me to come here."

"Oh," the doctor said again. Now _this_ was a new one to him. "What did he hear?"

Tim shrugged again. "He wasn't sure, that's why he made me come here."

"And why was he listening to your lungs?"

"Because Tony made him."

Cal looked at the intake form again and saw that under occupation it said "NCIS Agent." He'd seen many a man - including federal agents - act like a petulant child when they came in, but this guy was taking the cake.

"Okay, Agent McGee, do you mind if I take a listen to your lungs?" Cal asked as if speaking to a child.

But the title of 'Agent' seemed to snap Tim out of the funk he was in and he glared at the tone that had been used. However he submitted to the request with a nod.

So the doctor went through the whole rigmarole of 'Breathe in. Breathe out.' and was shocked to discover that there definitely was something wrong.

"Who is your friend, Agent McGee? The one who told you to come here?"

"Jimmy Palmer. He's an autopsy assistant, but he went through medical school."

Now everything was making sense to Cal.

"Well, your friend certainly has good hearing. We are going to have to admit you, Agent McGee. It seems like you have a touch of pneumonia and I'd like to run some more tests. It will probably be only overnight, but I want to make sure there are no complications with having had heat exhaustion."

It was Tim's turn to say "Oh."

"Did you come in with someone?" Tim nodded. "You can let them know that we're keeping you, if you'd like. Or I can do that for you."

Tim let out a brief laugh. "I better do that. Ziva might not take it so well if you tell her."

Tim hopped off the table and headed toward the waiting room. Cal was curious enough about this 'Ziva' to follow behind.

Ziva stood up once she saw him. "You all set, McGee?"

"Uh, actually, they want to keep me overnight. I guess Palmer was right - I have a touch of pneumonia."

Ziva's eyebrows shot up.

"Pneumonia? How'd that happen?"

Tim shrugged and Cal stepped forward.

"It doesn't sound like anything serious, but we'd rather be sure."

Then he turned on his best smile.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Cal Jahvid. And you are?"

"Agent Ziva David," Ziva said, barely giving Cal any notice. "Do you want me to stay, McGee?" she offered.

"No," Tim said, shaking his head. "That's why I came out here - to let you know you can go back to work and that I'll give Gibbs a call and let him know what's going on."

Ziva nodded. "Okay then. Let one of us know when you're okay to come home tomorrow and we'll pick you up,"

"Thanks, Ziva," Tim said, giving her a grin. "Have fun with the case."

Ziva let out a little laugh before turning and leaving.

"Okay, Agent McGee," Cal said, following Ziva's exit with his eyes. Then he shook his head and turned to Tim. "Let's get you settled in."

The smile dropped from Tim's face, but he nodded and followed the doctor.

NCISNCISNCISNCIS

Ziva waited until she exited the hospital before calling Tony.

"_DiNozzo."_

"Your flirtation has landed McGee in the hospital overnight."

"… _What?"_

"They're admitting him for observation. I hope you're happy."

Ziva grinned to herself as she listened to Tony sputter in disbelief.

"Calm down. I am only half joking. They are keeping McGee overnight, but it is because he has pneumonia. I doubt you had anything to do with that."

"_I hate you."_

Ziva laughed.

"_Pneumonia? How'd he get that?"_

"I do not know, but Palmer will be happy he was right."

"_I bet."_

"I will be back soon."

And with that she hung up.

NCISNCISNCISNCIS

Ziva had returned to NCIS with a bullpen full of people with questions.

Jimmy had been pleased to find out he had been correct - but he was also concerned about Tim. Ziva assured him he had seemed fine.

Abby had to be stopped from rushing to the hospital when they broke the news that Tim would be staying overnight, but they got her calm and reasonable - if not quite completely reassured that he really was okay.

Gibbs glared and everyone scrambled to get back to work.

Several hours later Tony found himself in the bullpen alone, searching through the filing cabinet. Gibbs was up in MTAC and had taken Ziva with him to act as a translator, because the in-house translator sometimes refused to _exactly _translate what Gibbs was saying. And when Gibbs swore at someone he wanted them to _know_ he was swearing at them.

When Tony's cell phone rang he had to run to answer it, for he had left it sitting on his desk.

"DiNozzo," he answered absentmindedly, most of his attention focused on the folder in his hands.

"_Anthony DiNozzo?"_

"Yes."

"_Mr. DiNozzo -"_

"Agent DiNozzo," he was quick to correct.

"_Agent DiNozzo, you're listed as an emergency contact for a Timothy McGee. We tried to contact a… Gibbs… but he isn't answering his phone."_

"He can't be disturbed right now," Tony said, closing the folder in his hands and giving his full attention to the caller. "What's this about?"

No one else was in the bullpen to hear Tony's side of the conversation.

"Yeah, we were told about the pneumonia earlier today."

Or see him sit down heavily in his chair.

"O-okay."

Or blanch a pale white beneath his tan.

"But… but… is that normal?"

No one saw him slowly close his phone and then set it aside in careful, controlled movements. No one saw him gripping the arms of his chair until his knuckles were white.

Nor was anyone privy to the moment when Tony DiNozzo had to control his breathing to keep from outright panicking.


	4. Chapter Four

Tony wasn't left alone for too long, for as sometimes can happen everyone managed to converge in the bullpen at once.

Abby was running in, gabbing about Gibbs not answering his phone and finding a fingerprint match at just about the same moment Gibbs and Ziva were walking down the stairs, finally finished with their mission in MTAC. None of them seemed to notice Tony sitting there, too shell-shocked to move.

"Huh," Gibbs said, flipping his phone closed. "The message was Bethesda calling about McGee. They asked me to call back."

"No need to," Tony said, finally finding it in him to speak. "I already talked to them."

They all turned as one to look at Tony, as none of them had realized he was even there. A quiet Tony is unthinkable, and therefore is an invisible Tony.

"And?" Gibbs said with an edge of impatience.

Tony didn't answer right away. His mouth opened and then snapped shut. Gibbs was moments away from snapping when he took a good look at his agent. He wasn't drawing it out to peak everyone's curiosity, he seriously didn't want to say what he had to say. And the look Tony was giving him was one of confusion, like he couldn't quite figure out what had really happened.

"Tony? What did they say?" Gibbs urged gently, but forcibly enough that Tony knew he had no choice but to answer.

"Probie - McGee."

Tony cleared his throat and shifted, for once uncomfortable at being stared at by a multitude of people.

"McGee was doing good. They weren't too concerned about the pneumonia and were sure he was going to be out tomorrow. But when the nurse went through her rounds she found - " Tony couldn't quite force the words out so he swallowed thickly and then tried again, getting to the point this time. "Tim's in a coma and they don't know why."

It was like all air was sucked out of the room at Tony's words. It wasn't at all what anyone had expected to hear. Tim had been sitting at his desk just hours before - maybe a little worse for the wear, but definitely no where near being ill enough to be in a coma.

For two long seconds no one said anything. It might have been expected that Abby would be the first to say something, but it was actually Ziva who broke the silence.

"How can they not know why?"

But there was no one that could answer that question.

Gibbs told them all to go home after that. No more work would be - could be - done that night. Tony had never moved from his seat, and he stayed there watching as Ziva tried to snap Abby back into reality.

Abby hadn't freaked out. She wasn't spazzing or panicked. She was standing still - as if a statue. As if she were afraid that if she moved then what Tony had said would become reality rather than just words floating in the air.

"Abby. Abby, come on, I will take you home," Ziva said, waving her hand in front of Abby's face.

Tony got up then and gently moved Ziva aside. He softly cupped Abby's chin and made her look at him.

"Abs, it'll be okay. I promise. McGee is too stubborn to stay in a coma for long, you'll see."

Abby just looked at him for a long while.

"I'm not allowed to panic." she finally said. "I need to stay calm and not freak out."

Tony nodded, knowing she was saying her mantra aloud.

"Will you let Ziva take you home?"

Abby nodded. Tony kissed her forehead before letting her go.

"Ziva will take care of you."

He looked at Ziva, about to whisper to her that Abby was eventually going to freak out and she needed to stay with her.

"I know," Ziva said before he could so much as open his mouth, and he smiled at her, glad that they didn't need to say the words between them.

He watched them enter the elevator and waited until it was descending before grabbing his gear and heading out to join Gibbs at the hospital.

NCISNCISNCISNCIS

Tony walked the quiet halls of Bethesda, keeping an eye out for the tell-tale sign that Gibbs had been through. Sure enough, eventually he saw her - a young nurse blinking slowly as she looked down the hall.

"Good evening," Tony drawled out once he was standing in front of her. She jumped and refocused her attention. "Did a rather frightening older man come through here and get you to tell him where a patient's room is?"

The nurse's eyes widened in surprise and she nodded slowly.

"Well, could you tell me where he might be right now?"

"V-visiting hours are over sir," she stammered out, trying to sound forceful and assured of herself.

Tony grinned his most charming grin at her.

"Well yes, they are. But I'm just going to get Daddy and take him back to the home." He widened his eyes and gave her his most innocent look.

The nurse, young and new to the job as she might be, didn't believe him for an instant and narrowed suspicious eyes at him. He continued to beam, trying to mentally project an image of a halo above his head.

Finally she sighed. "Your friend is in room 208. If anyone catches you just tell them that you snuck by me while I was checking on another patient."

Tony let his expression fall from his face and instead smiled gently at her.

"Thank you. And don't worry about Gibbs - he's bullied nurses with 40 years experience before."

The young nurse smiled back and watched him walk away.

Tony had no problem finding the room, and Gibbs wasn't at all surprised to see him walk in.

"Charm the nurse?"

"No, told her I was coming to take my Daddy back to the home."

That got a hint of a smile from Gibbs, but it was gone a moment later when he looked back at his agent laying in the bed.

Tony walked towards the bed to get a closer look at his friend in the dim light of the room.

Tim was still and pale and breathing shallowly - just like any other person he'd ever seen in a coma. No flickering behind the eyelids, no twitching of fingers or toes, just human silence unmasked by the noise of false mechanical life.

"How did this happen?" The words were out of his mouth before he had any desire to say them.

Gibbs shrugged. He knew what to say when an agent was laying in a hospital bed due to a gun shot, a car crash, a beating, an explosion - any of the multitude of injuries and disasters that can occur to federal agents at any time. But having an agent in the hospital for no discernable reason other than being overheated and having a case of pneumonia that the doctors hadn't been worried about - this was beyond his rather large scope of reality.

"You're not supposed to be here."

So intent in watching Tim were they that neither Gibbs nor Tony was startled by the unexpected voice - it barely penetrated their consciousness.

Cal walked further into the room.

"Visiting hours were over hours ago."

"He was coughing and breathing hard, but I thought that was because of the heatstr- the heat exhaustion." Tony looked over at the doctor. "What happened?"

Cal didn't have the heart to shoo this man out of the room - it wasn't like his patient's sleep was being disturbed. And the gaze of the older gentleman clearly told him that leaving was not going to be an option anyway.

"I'm sorry, but I can only discuss Agent McGee's medical problems with his immediate family."

"I'm his proxy," Gibbs said. "And he wouldn't mind him knowing either," he added with a nod towards Tony.

Cal picked up Tim's chart and double checked the paperwork.

"You are Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs nodded.

"We're not entirely sure what happened. The pneumonia was settling in his lungs, but we caught it before it advanced too far. We expected to release him tomorrow with the caveat of bed rest. So far his blood work isn't coming back with anything unusual. If Agent McGee doesn't come out of this on his own by tomorrow afternoon we will run some more intensive blood work, maybe get him a MRI and see if maybe something else isn't going on."

The three men stood there and looked at each other until Cal's tired mind finally told him to introduce himself.

"I'm Dr. Cal Jahvid and I'll be Agent McGee's attending while he's here. When I'm not here Dr. Allison Mackey will probably be the one to fill in, but I'm on schedule for the next couple of days."

"Agent Gibbs," Gibbs said, introducing himself in his gruff manner.

"Agent Tony DiNozzo, but you can call me Tony," Tony said, offering a hand to shake.

"You're both more than welcome to call me Cal," he said as he shook Tony's hand. He looked at the two men and then at his patient and came to a decision. "I'm not going to tell you two to leave. It may even be best for Agent McGee if he has someone around that he knows if he happens to wake up. But - whatever you do - do not tell the nurses that I okayed this." He shuddered. "They scare me."

That caused a burst of laughter to escape Tony and a smirk to quirk at Gibbs' lips.

"Thanks Cal. We promise - we're here without permission and we're to take whatever grief the nurses have to give."

Cal grinned at Tony and then bid the two agents a good night and left to go find an empty bed in the on call room.

In room 208 two chairs were pulled up on either side of the bed and two men did not sleep as four eyes remained on one comatose agent.


	5. Chapter Five

"No change."

...

"No change."

...

"No change."

...

"No change."

...

"No change."

Tony was beginning to hate those words.

"Thanks Nurse Kramer," he said, before hanging up the phone.

"Let me guess," Ziva said from across the room, "no change?"

Tony rubbed his eyes and nodded. He hadn't slept much the night before - hospital chairs were rarely very comfortable, and the sounds of a hospital don't exactly sooth one to sleep.

Despite the uncomfortable sleeping situation, the morning had started out on a positive note when Tim had shown signs of possibly waking up - a twitch of his hands here or the fluttering of his eyelashes there. Tony and Gibbs had hung around as long as they could, but nothing more than those slight signs occurred so they had to go. Work was awaiting them, despite their desire to be elsewhere.

Tony had taken it upon himself to call for an update every three hours or so. At first he had been optimistic that the nurses would say the magic words - "He's awake" - but when this failed to happen each subsequent call he fell into a darker and darker mood. Ziva and Gibbs were no better.

No one was used to Tim being gone. He was always there, ready to start a search or to whip up new search protocols - and so they were struggling to get through the technical aspects of working a case. Although Abby was helping out, she wasn't in the top of spirits, and without her bouncy energy it was taking her longer than normal to get through all her work.

But it wasn't about their technical genius not being there - it was about their friend lying in a hospital bed for no apparent reason.

"Good evening!"

The familiar voice broke the grim staring contest going on between Ziva and Tony - each unwilling to be the one to go update Gibbs and Abby on the latest non-news.

"Ducky, what are you doing here?" Tony asked.

Most of Ducky's smile dropped from his face at the abnormally subdued greeting from Tony.

"My flight got in earlier this afternoon. I wanted to be sure my autopsy is ready to go for me tomorrow." Ducky took a good look at Tony and then Ziva. "What happened?"

Ziva's look to Tony clearly told him that he was going to be the one telling the story.

"McGee's in the hospital in a coma."

This of course drew exclamations of shock from Ducky and soon Tony was telling him everything - from the moment he had opened Nancy Kreiner's door to find an exhausted, red-faced, sweaty mess of a Probie, to the latest phone call to Bethesda.

"I will go down there and talk to this Dr. Jahvid, see what's going on. If Timothy was showing signs of coming out of his coma he should have done so by now," Ducky said, concern evident in his voice.

"Keep us updated?" Tony asked, and received an "Of course!" from Ducky.

The ding of the elevator taking Ducky down was drowned out by the clearing of a throat. Ziva and Tony looked up from their work to see Gibbs and Abby standing there, obviously miffed that they hadn't received their latest update.

"No change," Tony said, sighing out the hated words. "Ducky was here though, and he just left to go down and check things out."

He was about to explain to Gibbs and Abby about why Ducky had been there and what he had said about Tim being in a coma when Gibbs phone rang. And then all conversations stopped as their case ground to a sudden stop.

Jennifer Mars - wife of Mitchell Mars, the slain Marine - had walked into NCIS headquarters and turned herself in, confessing to the murder of her husband and his mistress. Tony found no joy in being right this time, as there was no one to gloat to in order to provoke rolling eyes and a deep sigh of exasperation.

Despite their case pretty much solving itself there was still work to be done - booking Jennifer Mars, getting her statement, filling out reports and closing up the case. It was late when they walked out of the building, but they were all heading for the same place.

The nurses didn't even try to stop the four of them as they walked past the central nursing station - en masse the combination of Gibbs, Tony, Ziva and Abby didn't make it worth the effort. But they didn't make it in to Tim's room, for they found Ducky standing outside of it, a concerned look on his face.

"Duck?"

At the sound of Gibbs' voice Ducky looked up and the responding smile was weak.

"Why are you out here Duckman? What's going on with Timmy?" Abby asked, her voice unnaturally quiet. According to Ziva, she had freaked out in an extreme manner once she was in the safety of her own apartment, but while at work - and now - she was making an effort to be calm.

"Dr. Jahvid is doing a spinal tap on Timothy right now. We - he thinks Timothy's coma might have nothing to do with the pneumonia, but might instead be a viral infection."

There was a dark and troubled quality to Ducky's face that told them he was holding something back.

"Ducky, what happened?" Tony asked, unwilling to be in the dark.

"You told me that Timothy had been showing signs of waking up. I saw the same thing you must have seen and knew right away that was not what was going on. I spoke with one of the nurses and she had seen his fingers twitching just once, out of the corner of her eye. She didn't recognize the subtle signs of a small seizure in a comatose patient."

Seizure. Ducky slipped the word in there casually, but it was one they all heard loud and clear.

"I of course informed Dr. Jahvid of my suspicions, but while we were in there he had a - larger episode. Once he came out of it Dr. Jahvid decided to do a spinal tap."

"How is McGee doing? Will he be all right?" Ziva asked, the first to get out the questions that were on the tips of everyone's tongues.

"Timothy is going through a lot right now. We need to know exactly what has caused this before he can be treated effectively. The seizures tell us there is something more than pneumonia going on, but at the same time being in a coma is complicating his pneumonia. His lungs are growing worse rather than better."

"What does that mean, Duck?" Gibbs asked, his voice gruff with unexpressed emotion.

Ducky's shoulders drooped.

"It means that if Timothy doesn't come out of his coma soon he may never come out of it."

Other than the soft cries of Abby, there was not a sound in the hallway.

* * *

_Okay, I promise - you'll find out what's going on next chapter - which will hopefully be up tomorrow. (I just need to revise it.)_


	6. Chapter Six

The threat of losing someone who had been just fine two days before causes different emotions in different people.

Some people are calm because that's who they are and how they react to all such situations.

Others are calm because they don't believe anything bad could ever happen - or they just don't want to believe.

Some try to crack jokes to relieve tension that is unable to be relieved, and they hate themselves for doing so.

Those that can - they try to explain things. The possibilities of how this person became sick and of what can be done to save them. All the while they know in their minds the reality of the situation, but they don't want to burden the others with such knowledge.

But in the end, all anyone can do is wait.

Wait to be told why your friend is suddenly laying so silent and still. Pray fervently for his recovery. Wait for his death.

NCISNCISNCISNCIS

Life doesn't wait for a loved one to die. There's paperwork to fill out, a lab to run, bodies to autopsy.

Considering the situation, Vance was quick to pull the Gibbs' MCRT off the First Call list, but in case something big came up he couldn't afford to have the entire team out of the office. So they were put to work looking into cold cases and catching up on backlogged paperwork.

However, if each member of the team took lunch at a different time and took longer than normal - well, he pretended not to notice. If attention spans were short and people jumped at the ringing of a phone, not a thing was said.

And no one ever said anything when Vance would disappear for several hours each afternoon either.

Four days this went on.

Four days in which Tim got paler and his body - already skinny enough as it was - seemed to begin to cozy up to his bones. And in which he went from breathing - albeit shallowly - on his own, to wearing a mask, to the terrible moment towards the end of day two where he was intubated.

The only bright spot they were able to cling onto was that the seizures were under control. But without knowing just what was causing Tim's decline, nothing more could be done for him but to try to keep him alive.

Day four was a Saturday, and all but Vance - who had a family to be with - were assembled in Tim's room. No plans had been made to meet there, no one showed up together - it was just natural for everyone to want to be by their friend's side.

At noon Cal Jahvid came back with a diagnosis.

"This was honestly the last thing we thought to look for, considering Tim's age and excellent state of health," he said, quite obviously more than a bit disconcerted at what was on the chart in front of him. Enough so that he did seem to realize that he hadn't really said anything yet.

"What is it?" Ducky asked, gently prodding Cal to reveal his knowledge.

"A neuroinvasive form of West Nile - West Nile Encephalitis, to be exact," Cal said.

He went on to explain what it was and what it was doing to Tim's body. So intently was everyone listening that no one noticed how pale Tony had gotten. Nor did they notice when he quietly left the room.

West Nile hadn't been front page news for a long time, but Tony knew what it was and how it was contracted. Mosquitoes.

He had used more bug repellent than needed and laughed as Tim itched and scratched his way through the next several days. All the while a tiny virus was making its way through Tim's body - killing him.

No. This wasn't the fault of some virus doing what it was born to do. This was his fault. He was killing his Probie.

* * *

_Now, don't give me that look! It's perfectly plausible!_

_To be honest, this story was a bit of a catharsis for me. My grandfather was diagnosed with neuroinvasive West Nile last summer - but it was almost two weeks before the doctors figured it out. (I didn't make Tim suffer that long!) And, because of his age, it was a bit more dramatic then what happened here. (He's since recovered from NIWN.)_

_My mom was told that there had been a man in his 30s that contracted it earlier that summer. I'm sure there were extenuating health circumstances, but when I heard that I knew I had to do this to Tim... because I'm mean like that. :)_


	7. Chapter Seven

Tony had always been able to handle himself well under all sorts of situations - romantic, dangerous, awkward, intense, frightening - but he lacked the ability to deal with emotional situations. And - to him - nothing was more emotional than feeling guilty. He didn't like feeling guilty and usually was able to talk himself out of it.

Or, failing that, he would avoid that which made him feel guilty.

Nothing went back to normal Monday morning. Tim was still in the hospital, still intubated, still in a coma - nothing could be normal about that. So the same routine from the week before was maintained.

Except for Tony's sake. Tony would disappear during his lunch break and go to a café to drink a cup of hot chocolate and play Tetris or Brick Breaker - whatever suited his mood at the time. And he avoided thoughts of skin hugging bone. Of tubes shoved down throats in order to breathe. Of tiny little viruses invading a body and a body slowly killing itself to try to get rid of them.

Everything was going just fine until the following Monday morning, when Tony looked up from his computer - where he was clumsily trying to run a search for financial records - to find Ziva glaring down at him, arms crossed.

"Yeees?" he drawled out, annoyed at being interrupted.

"I asked around the hospital over the weekend, and do you know that no one has seen you there since you up and disappeared from there a week ago?" Ziva said, her face frozen in a stony glare.

"And?" His tone did not change, his facial expression remained the same - but his insides had fallen somewhere around his ankles.

Ziva slammed both hands down on Tony's desk and leaned in menacingly. He managed not to flinch backwards - but only by a hair.

"Why would that be?"

Tony returned glare for glare.

"That is none of your business."

She leaned in even further and this time he couldn't help but scoot back.

"When it comes to how my partner - my friend - is treated, it is my business."

They glared at each other for several more moments before Ziva's eyes narrowed further - her expression becoming a little more frightening.

"Do you want to know why I asked around about you and how often you've been around?"

"Why?" Tony ground out through clenched teeth.

"Because Tim is awake, Tony, and has been since Friday night. And he's asking why you don't want to see him."

It took all Tony had in him not to react to that, but inside such a large variety of emotions swirled around that he wasn't sure what to settle on.

Joy. Fear. Anger. Shame. Elation. And the ever-present guilt.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony stood up and called out a grateful "Yes, Boss?" - his eyes tracking Gibbs' path from the stairs to his desk.

"Go down and find out what's taking Abby so long on the soil results."

The "Yes, Boss," was not so enthusiastic this time.

Tony had been avoiding Abby just as much as he had been avoiding the hospital, because he knew that if anyone could sniff out his guilt, it was Abby. But now that Tim was awake - the very thought of which caused his heart to fill with joyful relief - Abby was going to kill him. Straight out murder him for being a horrible friend. And once she found out that everything was his fault, she was going to make his death a drawn out one full of pain.

He took his time getting down to the lab - metaphorically dragging his feet. His mind was an eddy of thoughts - about Tim, about Abby - and about himself. How if he had just been less of an idiot then they wouldn't all be going through this right now.

But eventually he did reach the lab. And once Abby turned to look at him, it took all of two seconds to realize that she knew. And she wasn't happy.

"Gibbs wants to know what's taking so long on the rerun of the soil samples from the Henderson cold case." Tony asked, plowing ahead in an attempt to keep things professional.

Abby was obviously not on the same page as he was.

He watched with hidden trepidation as her eyes narrowed dangerously and she slowly crossed her arms in a menacing manner.

"I'm here about the soil samples Abby, that's all."

Abby didn't back down though. She remained standing there, trying to glare him into submission.

And he snapped.

"The soil results, Abby!" Tony didn't mean to yell. He didn't want to yell - no one ever really wanted to yell at Abby. He immediately hated himself for the little reflexive jump she did.

Tony sighed and massaged his forehead.

"I'm sorry, Abby, but I don't want to talk about it. It's my business. Please just tell me about the Henderson case."

Abby didn't concede to his wishes though. Instead she stalked up to him until they were almost nose to nose - or would have been if she wasn't so much shorter than him.

"Seriously Tony, what's going on with you? You're usually not this horrible of a friend."

Tony wasn't sure if she meant to sound so cruel but she had. And she had every right to.

And this time it wasn't his anger that snapped, but rather the tenuous hold he had on his guilt.

"Because it's my fault, Abby!" Tony yelled. "I was a jerk and used all the bug spray and I almost killed McGee because of it!"

Abby blinked up at him for several moments. He could almost see the gears grinding in her head as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. He knew the moment she had.

"Oh, oh Tony," Abby cried. And then he was wrapped up in an Abby-hug of epic magnitude, rather than being pummeled with tiny fists of doom like he had been expecting. He couldn't bring himself to return the hug and instead tried to dissuade the comfort she was offering.

"If I hadn't used all the repellent McGee would be okay. He almost died because I wanted to play a joke. Because I wanted to laugh at him later on, scratching at a dozen mosquito bites."

Abby pulled back then and gently cradled Tony's face between her palms.

"I was afraid you were going to think this way. No one blames you for this, Tony. I know Timmy doesn't. Don't you remember? You had a mosquito bite on the back of your neck despite all the repellent you used. Ziva and Gibbs got to use the spray and even they came away with bites. It could've happened to Timmy even if you had saved him repellent. It could've even been you or Ziva or Gibbs. Timmy was just the unlucky one here."

Tony stared down into Abby's eyes, searching for the truth behind her words.

And when he found it a scant two seconds later, he wrapped her into a hug and vowed to himself that he would be at the hospital as soon his day was over. Maybe it wasn't his fault that Tim had ended up in the hospital. But it was certainly his fault that he was being a horrible friend, and that was one wrong that he could easily fix.

* * *

_Some of you wanted me to go easy on Tony and others wanted me to drag out his misery... so only some of you will be happy with this. You can blame (or thank) this quick wrap-up of the guilt party on a titanium writers block. I'm still working on chipping it down! (The rest of this story is completed - no worries! I just need to find time to edit.)_


	8. Chapter Eight

Tony stood outside of Tim's hospital door, unsure of whether or not he should actually go in. The room was lit dimly by a lamp and the various monitors that were scattered about in an order only a doctor or nurse would ever understand, and he could barely make out the form of his friend laying still on his bed.

A nurse walked by and gave him an odd look. She might have stopped to ask him what he was doing there - why he was lurking like a thief outside a patient's door - but one look at the worried and contrite look on his face told her enough of the story to pass on by.

"You can come in, you know."

The voice startled Tony - not so much because it was unexpected, but because Tim had more strength in his voice than he thought he would.

Tony took a step into the room, and then hesitated. Would Tim be angry with him? Maybe the mosquito bites weren't entirely his fault - but he had certainly been a horrible friend. Would he look horrible? Despite Abby's insistence that he wasn't to blame for Tim's near-demise, Tony couldn't help but still feel a pang of guilt thinking about it.

But Tony continued on in to the room until he was standing by Tim's bedside, looking down at his friend. He was relieved to see him awake and alert - and that some of the missing weight was beginning to return.

"How're you feeling?"

Tony knew it was a lame line - trite and overused among those who visited friends in hospitals - but it was all he could come up with at the moment. After all, no one could be brilliant all the time.

"I'm all right."

"Good."

And that exhausted Tony's ideas about what the two of them could talk about, so instead they remained in awkward silence, just staring at each other.

Eventually Tony's gaze was pulled from Tim's face to land on his hands - or his left hand, to be exact - which was acting very peculiarly.

"What are you doing?"

Tim looked down at his hand - which was incessantly picking at the sheet that covered his legs. It stopped for a moment as Tim looked at it, and then continued on. A light blush dusted his cheeks.

"I can't really help it. My doctor said it's not unusual for people to have strange tics as they recover from encephalitis. She said it'll probably go away after I get out of the hospital - or if not then, within a couple of weeks. Probably."

Tony stared at the hand pick, pick, picking at the sheet. Before he really knew what he was doing he had Tim's hand cradled between his own two, effectively stilling the appendage.

Tim looked at their hands for a moment before deciding not to be bothered by his hand in Tony's hands. It was, quite frankly, a relief to have the uncontrollable movements ceased, albeit temporarily.

"It could be worse," Tim said, grinning up at Tony. "One of the nurses was telling me about an old man who went through the same thing last summer, but with him he just couldn't seem to keep his clothes on."

Tony winced. And then grimaced - and then burst out laughing.

The conversation flowed from there. Talking about the nurses - were they hot? And work - had Tony really managed to figure out how to sift through financial records? They talked about Jethro - the dog, of course - and their co-workers - including the human Jethro.

They talked until both their voices were hoarse and Tim's eyes were drooping and a nurse was staring Tony down, asking him to leave.

"I'll leave in five more minutes, I promise," Tony said, giving the nurse one of his patented grins. And, of course, she acquiesced and let them be.

"So, when are you going to get out of here?" Tony asked, something that had surprisingly not come up earlier.

"Pretty soon. They said I could go to a rehab facility as soon as I can walk up and down the hall once without assistance. I almost made it today," Tim said, grinning before a yawn broke through.

"You'll need rehab?"

"Yeah. My brain was scrambled a bit, but I guess I'm lucky it's just my ability to walk - and to keep my hand still - that was affected." He glanced down at his hand, which was once again between Tony's hands. He hadn't let it go too often as they spoke, only really to make a dramatic point by waving his hands around. It had been a relief not to feel the coarse fabric of his sheet between his fingers, lifting up and resettling repeatedly against his leg.

"How long will you be in rehab?"

"However long it takes," Tim answered.

An "Ahem" from the doorway told them that their five minutes were up.

"Well, goodnight, Probie. Rest up, and I'll come and see you tomorrow. If you do end up escaping this place let me know where you are and I'll visit you there."

Tim stared at Tony, accessing him, and finally came to the conclusion that he was telling the truth. The grin that stole over his lips prompted an answering grin from Tony. Grins that stayed, even as one walked out of the hospital and the other drifted to sleep.

* * *

_I did warn all of you that I had a titanium writer's block... but this made it around, as did the following epilogue. Thanks for sticking with me!_


	9. Epilogue

One year later.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

It wasn't often that NCIS and the FBI got to - had to - work together, but whenever Fornell's team was involved you were sure to find Gibbs' team as well. Which was why, on this particular hot and muggy summer day, Fornell was leaning against his car, watching Gibbs and his team climb out of a standard-issue nondescript car.

They were by a field - just off a dirt road - where Sasha, Fornell's still wet-behind-the-ears probie, had literally stumbled upon a dead Marine while in the process of searching for the buried loot of a local crime ring. Hence the forced intrusion of Gibbs on Fornell's crime scene.

Fornell watched with an external visage of detached aloofness - but an internal rabid curiosity - as all four of them went right to the trunk of the car and grabbed cans of bug spray. And then immediately began attacking a laughingly protesting Tim with noxious clouds of the stuff - before turning the cans on each other.

He had seen something similar occur several months ago, when Gibbs had been the one to call Fornell for help. The two teams had arrived at the abandoned warehouse - situated next to swampland swarming with mosquitoes. The FBI team had watched as the entire NCIS team hesitated in getting out of the car - too busy staring at the pesky pests. No one commented though, for by then everyone knew about Tim's near demise from a mere mosquito.

Tony was the first one to exit the car, and he had gone straight for his bag in the trunk and pulled out several cans of bug spray. That seemed to be a prearranged signal, for Ziva and Gibbs got out of the car and dragged Tim out with them. In moments Tim was engulfed in a haze of sticky bug spray - and he was not-so-laughingly protesting.

Then Tony handed over the can to Tim and said, "My turn, Probie. Do your worst!"

Tim had hesitated for a moment before finally smiling and spraying his partner down - as Ziva and Gibbs sprayed each other's backs.

"Hey, Fornell!" Tony's call wrenched Fornell from his thoughts."What, DiNutzo?"

Tony just waved a can of spray at him and Fornell nodded and easily caught the tossed can.

That day, several months ago, Tony had walked over with a full can of spray and handed it to the FBI agent.

"In case you don't have any," he said in response to the raised eyebrow of enquiry. Then he shrugged. "You won't stop all the little buggers, but you might just stop the right one."

He'd turned and left then, returning to Tim's side to tease and mock - and smack away any mosquito that dared to land on his Probie.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

There are two choices that people who feel guilty can make. They can either bury their guilt and try to forget it's there - only to inevitably have it sneak up on them at the worst possible moment.

Or they can live with their guilt and embrace it.

Learn from it.

Grow from it.


End file.
